


Not to touch you

by Moonmoth



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Borussia Dortmund, Bundesliga, M/M, hubotic, kinderriegel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 17:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4572924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonmoth/pseuds/Moonmoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>January 2015: Mats proposed to Cathy during their vacation. Neven learns it from the news.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not to touch you

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Dich nicht zu berühren](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4572882) by [Moonmoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonmoth/pseuds/Moonmoth). 



A postcard. Neat handwriting fills the rectangle:

> _Half my days I cannot bear not to touch you._
> 
> _The rest of the time I feel it doesn’t matter_
> 
> _if I ever see you again._

 

                               Michael Ondaatje: The English Patient

 

By now I recognize Mats' car by the sound. I don’t know why he comes here today of all days. On the day after the news broke that he will marry Cathy in the summer. I don’t think I'll be in the country at the time, it’s probably better that way, then I won’t have to find out if he would have invited me.

I open the door and watch as he comes up the way to the house in the twilight.

"Hi," he says when he stands in front of me, he smiles half-apologetically, he always does, because there is always only one reason why he comes here. I have hardly closed the door when he already puts his hand on my neck and kisses me. His tongue briefly licks over my lips invitingly, then withdraws. He prefers to be the one who gets kissed, that’s what he is here for. I try to imagine sometimes what would happen if I resisted the invitation. I've never managed to.

He opens his mouth willingly and moans as my tongue glides over his.

He is already tugging impatiently at my T-shirt. He is always like that when he comes here. He doesn’t want to be here actually, he hates that he wants me, he keeps putting it off, for weeks, until he can no longer stand it. And then he explodes in my hands.

I grab his wrists and force him to be still. He seems displeased.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Okay. A glass of water." He kisses me again before he kicks his shoes from his feet and follows me into the kitchen. I pour two glasses and hand him one. He takes it and takes a sip, then paces back and forth restlessly, takes an apple from the fruit bowl, throws it into the air a few times and puts it down again.

He is afraid I might ask about the wedding.

I don’t think much will change actually, he will keep appearing on my doorstep regularly. But the finality of it does hurt somehow, more than I would have thought.

I can’t reproach him for leading a double life, I have led one myself long enough. Until I could no longer see the point.

When I left my girlfriend he panicked, that was when he stopped touching me in public. I wanted to tell him that that was the most obvious thing he could do, but he gave me no chance to talk with him alone.

He stayed away, for almost four months. Then one evening he stood in front of my door again. He had his hands on my belt as soon as he was over the threshold. He dropped to his knees right there at the door and had my cock in his mouth only seconds later.

He puts down his glass, takes mine out of my hand, and reaches for my belt with almost the same gesture as back then, opens it with a little more force than is actually needed, then unbuttons my jeans. Grips my cock. He knows exactly what to do, how firm and how fast. Within a minute I’m so turned on that I put my forehead on his shoulder and have to hold on to him. With utmost willpower I manage to grasp his hand at some point.

"Let's go upstairs." It's not like we haven’t done it down here on the ground, but my knees are not what they used to be. Mats nods silently and leaves the kitchen while I cram myself back into my jeans.

Still on the stairs, he takes off his shirt and offers me a nice view of his back.

In the bedroom, I pull him to me, put my hands around his face and kiss him until his lips are all swollen and dark. I pause and run my finger over them. I would have liked more red. It is always dusk when he is here, the colors washed-out.

He starts tugging at my T-shirt again, this time I let him take it off of me. His lips brush against the corner of my mouth, then my neck, my collarbone. He licks my nipple, nibbles it, then bites down so hard that I have to pull his head away. He doesn’t really want to hurt me, it's just his strange way of showing me what he himself wants, needs.

I push him onto the bed and give him what he wants, bite his nipple, as hard as I dare. He pushes a hand into my hair and presses my face against his chest. He wants more. I continue until he moans, and rubs his hard cock against my hip. I stop to undress myself, then I grab the waistband of his sweatpants together with his boxers. He raises his hips so I can take them off.

I push his legs apart, kiss the inside of his thigh, then bite down until he makes this special sound that is not quite lust and not quite pain, then kiss the spot again. I move a little further and repeat the game. He'll be black and blue tomorrow, I never know how he explains this to Cathy.

"Neven," he says huskily, sliding his fingers into my hair and pulling me up. "I want ..." he whispers in my ear, pushing against me. "Please…"

His skin is very hot on mine. His hands flutter over my back while he bites my neck. I have to leave him for a moment in order to get the lubricant from the bedside table. He spreads his legs, then jerks briefly when the cold gel touches him. One finger, then two.

He sighs when I push into him. And then he is suddenly calm, all the feverishness vanished. I move cautiously and can feel how he lets go, how his walls crumble. He raises a hand and puts it around my face, stroking his thumb over my cheek.

"Neven ..." I read it more from his lips than hear it. He looks at me intently, and his dark eyes are so full of longing that I suddenly remember why I let him do this to me. Why I'm doing this to myself.

I close my eyes, put my forehead on his, and move as slowly as I can stand. For a while there is no room in my head for anything but his tightness and his hot breath on my face.

Eventually he becomes restless again, urgent, pushes my shoulders up so that he has room to grab his own cock. I step up the pace, he groans and bites his lower lip, throwing his head back.

"Harder!" It's just a whisper but still a command. I do him the favor and struggle not to come yet. The hand on his cock gets faster.

He comes with a loud groan, and the pulsing tightness around my cock pulls me with him. I lower myself onto him and allow myself the luxury of lying there for a while, listening to his rapid breathing.

Eventually he makes a movement that lets me know I’m getting too heavy. I let myself fall onto the mattress next to him, look at him, but his gaze is directed at the ceiling.

"Please don’t come there," he says without looking at me.

I am astonished that he thinks I would be capable of that. Briefly I see myself park my car with the engine running in front of a registrar's office in Munich, charge up the stairs, grab Mats' hand and drag him with me. Such ridiculously melodramatic stuff only happens in the movies.

Maybe he does know what he is doing to me.

He turns his face to me, and there is this half-apologetic smile again.

I'll wake up alone tomorrow.

 


End file.
